I Care (I Need You To Know)
by BrokePerception
Summary: Mike only had one place to go to when he discovered that Rachel had kissed Logan Sanders one place where he knew he wouldn't be questioned, but let in without a word and given a bed to sleep in and a glass of expensive scotch. / Marvey


**I Care (I Need You To Know)**

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Summary: Mike only had one place to go to when he discovered that Rachel had kissed Logan Sanders ── one place where he knew he wouldn't be questioned, but let in without a word and given a bed to sleep in and a glass of expensive scotch.

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Author's Note: I do not usually write about men… but add in a lot of Suits over the past weeks, Mike and Harvey and the innuendos between these two, and I am game. I hope you like this story ── if so, feel free to write a line (or two) below, and I might write more 'Marvey', possibly longer, possibly multi-chapter, probably hurt/comfort, slow build, etc.

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Michael Ross wasn't sure what he had expected to find when he looked into the living room from the doorway, having been disturbed by what had sounded like cackling when he woke with a full bladder and an urge to go to the bathroom to relieve himself. He frowned and lifted a brow as he temporarily debated whether or not it would be wise to thread further, rather than pad back to his room and act like he hadn't heard anything at all. Their situation was a complicated one, to put it mildly, as was their relationship, or… lack thereof. Since the day Mike had awkwardly stumbled into that room at the Chilton, run into Donna and, consequently, Harvey Specter himself, had come face-to-face with the best closer in New York, the two men had begun a strange game of one of them coming through for the other and that being reciprocated over and over again, as allies or adversaries. Their likeliness in intelligence and nature was what made them both perfectly capable of getting back at one another in the worst ways yet utterly incapable, for 'loyalty' to them was a number one priority, even over victory in their respective lines of work. That loyalty was what characterized Harvey's closer ties, which others might simply indicate as friendships. If only Harvey Specter did the whole 'friends' part, for it had become common knowledge through the years, in law firm circles, that he did not.

Harvey Specter, regardless of his many flings with nearly as many women since he was just seventeen, did not love, nor care. With him, you just had to settle with not being shit on if you were looking for some sort of affirmation of his allegiance, his liking. Mike sighed to himself. Maybe he couldn't put a tag on what Harvey and he had, or what they didn't have, but there he was in Harvey's home, the one he first had run to, having been let in by him without any questions. Harvey might have asked, of course, but Mike's partial answer hadn't affected Harvey's decision to let him stay as long as he needed. This sort of put him in a place where he felt like he couldn't just turn his back on Harvey.

Mike's gaze fell onto a used glass that had been left on the low side table, long forgotten, as he stepped into the living room, then the state of the man who had dared to give him a shot at success for the first time in his life ── all that despite having just dumped a suitcase full of pot at his feet. Harvey was sat on the couch with one hand up in his hair, as the other clutched the neck of an exceptionally ornate-looking bottle of amber-colored liquid. Harvey's knuckles had turned white with the effort with which he held the bottle as if it were a life-line. The chemise he wore was entirely wrinkled, a far cry from the perfectly ironed ones Harvey usually strutted through the corridor with at Pearson Specter, and it was barely tucked in, most of the buttons near the top undone to reveal the strong, hard planes of developed muscle Mike assumed to be the result of regular long, hardcore sessions at a gym or in the ring.

Barely an inch of scotch appeared to be left in the bottle, Mike noted, and that made him realize two things. If his memory didn't fail ── and Mike Ross' memory never did fail him ── that bottle had been 90% full earlier, after Harvey had poured both of them one half glass with dinner, which meant Harvey must have downed most of the expensive, very alcoholic scotch on his own. Secondly, that meant that it was impossible for the man not to be utterly intoxicated, no matter how well he could, or thought he could, hold liquor. Mike felt his worry for Harvey grow as he stepped further into the room, bare feet barely making any sounds on the clean parquet.

He couldn't see the other man's face, as it was obscured by his hand with the way he was sat, bent over, elbows resting loosely on his knees, and for a brief moment, Mike wasn't even certain whether the law firm name partner was awake. Mike was but a few feet away when Harvey somehow did appear to pick up on his approach, and the older man lowered his hand and looked up at his protégé. Harvey's normally immaculate dark hair was ruffled, face reddened, eyes misty and watery all at the same time.

"Harvey…?" Mike tried, although he didn't know exactly how to go about it. In hindsight, he thought he shouldn't have interfered but just returned to the guest room.

Then, for the most ephemeral of seconds, just before Harvey's walls shot up once more and his expression became stoic again, Mike could swear he saw a small, brief shimmer of what he thought might have been maybe worry or guilt. Which of those, he couldn't really tell, before the lawyer's brow knit together once again and the words he spoke were bitter and harsh, as usual, which made it even harder for Mike to believe that that near-maniacal laugh he had heard and that had coaxed him towards Harvey's living room must, without doubt, have been emitted by the man before him. 'Why are you awake?"

The words coming from Harvey's mouth somehow made Mike feel like a little kid caught up past their bedtime, by one of their parents. Harvey could build him up in ways no other person ever could when he applauded him, and at the same time, he could make the younger man feel tiny, like an ant, These feelings were never too far from each other. "Why are you awake?" Mike rebutted, no longer frightened by the harshness that was usually part of Harvey's dialogue anymore, as he sank down on the couch opposite the one Harvey was occupying.

A small flare of annoyance crossed Harvey Specter's features as he pursed his lips in the most manly of ways at his inability to make Mike back down as easily. He didn't know why part of him still expected it to, since his seemingly innate long-perfected ability to stay or get on top of every situation never had worked with Mike, like it hadn't with Donna. Louis, however, he could rile up with just the right look in his direction, a fact which he enjoyed making abuse of on any occasion. Harvey held the gaze of his former associate a moment longer before he broke eye contact and looked down at the bottle in his hand for a heartbeat. Then he brought it to his lips, tilted his head back and let the last of his scotch fill his mouth and slip down his throat as he upended it.

Michael knew that the older man was not going to answer him, so he filled the silence himself, fueled by Harvey's actions. "Don't you reckon you have had enough already?" he asked, certain enough that that question would earn a response from him, and a snarky one as well. He prepared himself for the answer he knew he would get. He steeled his gaze, ready to meet the lawyer's as soon as he had lowered the bottle and put it on the side table, next to the empty glass. Harvey met Mike's gaze angrily.

"Who are you to swoop in now and come tell me what I can and can't do? I'm an adult, and I'll decided for myself!" Harvey Specter spat.

"I'm not telling you what to do, or not to do," Mike corrected, and the lawyer in him bubbled near the surface. "I asked you one simple question, to make you aware of how much you've had already. Then you could decide for yourself not to continue."

Technicalities weren't the kind of things Harvey enjoyed when he was sober even, never mind when he was intoxicated, Mike discovered, very quickly. Harvey's lips were glued together in a thin line of anger for a long moment, eyes stormy. Unexpectedly, his left hand shot to the side. It connected with the lamp that was on the side table and made the empty scotch bottle topple over, rolling towards the edge very slowly, precariously remaining there for a few seconds before gravity won and it fell down to the floor, where it shattered in pieces. The shards of glass flew in every direction ── some pretty far ── upon impact.

Mike remained calm the entire time as this happened. Momentarily, Mike's gaze trailed to the sturdy scotch glass that was still upright, seemingly unharmed, and he was impressed by its ability to remain put. When he blinked away and looked back up at Harvey, whose gaze had trailed off to the shards of glass that covered his parquet floor, he couldn't help wonder what was really going on in the other man's head. "What made you fly into the scotch, Harvey?" he asked gently.

Harvey Specter, dramatically rolling his eyes, refused to look at his protégé as he got up and began to pace. The fact that he had had had so much alcohol barely showed in the lawyer's sure, measured footsteps. Mike doubted any other person who didn't know him very well, as he did, would notice. He wasn't sure whether or not Harvey would answer, but he would give him time to decide, to change his mind, before he broke their silence himself. Mike knew that he really hated silence when in conversation with other people, so he hoped that that would coax Harvey to speak in the end.

The moments in which sky blue eyes followed Harvey's footsteps as he paced ticked by, feeling like hours. In reality, it only took four minutes for the lawyer to come to a halt and sigh deeply. He then looked down at his shoes and whispered, rather defeatedly, "You know, I'm not── I'm not as much of a douche as everyone thinks," before he looked up at Mike with exasperation in his eyes. "I'm not the touchy-feely kind of person," he spoke, "I am sure that you've noticed. I do genuinely care about the people in my pathetic little life, and I'm so fucking sick of being treated like that same cold-hearted jerk who doesn't give a fuck."

Mike's mouth opened, perplexed. He closed it once more when he realized he didn't know what to say to that at all. If Mike could believe Donna and rely on his experiences with the man opposite him in light on his own knowledge of human nature, he knew that Harvey Specter was a private and calculating man, but with his heart in the right place ── if not before, then definitely after the way he had let the younger man in without question when he had needed a place to stay for the time being. Mike hadn't even had to ask. In fact, when Harvey had thrown his door open to find him there, the lawyer had had to give him only one look to know what might have happened and had wordlessly stepped aside to let him in, already telling Mike that he could stay as long as he wanted before he had an actual chance to explain. Mike didn't know where all of this was coming from now, though, and what could he say to it? Apprehensively, he waited, for Harvey to speak once more.

The silence between the men lasted for several moments, in which the tension could be felt very nearly. As Harvey released a mix of a sigh and a sob, Mike could swear that he saw some sort of plea roam within the lawyer's intoxicated gaze, as if silently begging to be told that Mike at least knew he wasn't the heartless jerk he was seen as by everyone else ── that was insofar as Harvey begged, of course. "You're not certain…"

Mike Ross inhaled sharply through his nose as he very carefully weighed the words on the tip of his tongue before he spoke. "I know you've risked a lot just to give me a chance and…" he started, his words empty and impersonal to his own ears, as he side-stepped the matter with ease, so much so that he could barely blame Harvey for the flame of anger that came over him and blended in with hurt in the lawyer's dark eyes, and he couldn't help but trail off, sure he would only make matters far worse if he were to finish the neatly rehearsed lines that he had repeated to everyone who wasn't Harvey when questioned about Harvey's ability to care.

Mike's thoughts were proven true when Harvey turned on his heel as if it wasn't possible for him to just look at Mike anymore then, which left the younger man at a loss. He got to his feet and took a step in Harvey's direction, opened his mouth to speak… but didn't get any further than Harvey's name. He didn't know how to continue from there, what to say, what not to.

"Harvey…"

"Don't. Stop right there, Mike."

The way his former boss all but spat his name made Michael Ross feel like he had just been punched in the gut. There he was in Harvey's loft, having been let in and offered to stay as long as he wanted on a whim's notice, because, for one reason or another, Harvey, the cold and heartless son of a bitch, had understood what the other man had needed at the time, whereas Mike was at a complete loss as to how he could help or if he even could. Mike couldn't say that he had ever experienced Harvey Specter intoxicated before, but he had a hunch that it wouldn't be the same as when the men had been high together.

He could feel the way Harvey's muscles tensed when he laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, like he himself had done on occasion to show Mike he thought he had done a good job, or to show support, when he didn't have any useful responses to the situation. He thought maybe he could best approach Harvey with the 'Harvey method', so to speak, but whereas the name partner of the law firm's touch had held a strange supportive capacity ── for Mike, at least ── as if it was a reassurance that Harvey would have his back at all times and be there if needed, Mike couldn't help but feel the awkwardness of his own touch now that he tried to do the same for Harvey in return. "Harvey," he began once more, aware that maybe it might not be the best idea to try reason with Harvey when he was wasted but also filled with belief that a reasonable, candid approach couldn't go too awry with Harvey Specter. "Maybe, Harvey, if you don't wish for people to believe you are a cold-hearted jackass, don't behave that way. I get it, you've got your precious reputation to maintain, and sometimes you've got to do what you've got to do in our lines of profession, but that doesn't mean you have to keep that act up with everyone all the fucking time."

Startled, Michael Ross took two quick steps backwards when his former boss turned on his heel and brought them face-to-face, mere inches between them. As he did this and his dark eyes bored into Mike's blues, Mike's hand fell from his shoulder ── he didn't even seem to notice or care, although Mike definitely did. "It doesn't work that way, Mike," Harvey growled, and he enunciated the 'k' in Mike's name specifically. "This is who I am, not a switch I can turn off and on. The people I'm── People know that I am who I am, and if not, it is time they learn. Instead of holding on to every word, they just need to learn to appreciate me for the ways in which I do show how much I appreciate them."

"Err, 'appreciate them'?" he asked incredulously, brow furrowed, as he threw Harvey's words back at him and tried to challenge him with his utter inability to admit that he as much as cared for anyone, loved anyone, unless confronted.

"Which people do you mean exactly, Harvey? Those you're 'close to'? You can't even say it!" Mike exclaimed. "That might just be the issue, actually: you don't let yourself get close to anyone at all. On occasion, it is nice to be reminded you're appreciated. Try it, and maybe you'll be treated differently."

Despite the fact that anger had flared in the closer's dark eyes, and despite the fact that he had opened his mouth, ready to yell his rebuttal when Mike was done ── or, as soon as Harvey could get a word in ── when Mike had said what he needed to, his mouth fell closed once more, and he swallowed the words that had bitterly formed on his tongue. Mike could see in Harvey's gaze that his words had hit home in every way, and a part of him felt guilty for a long moment for the way in which he had made all that happen.

"Harvey," he began, "is it so fucking hard to admit for you that you care for people?" This time, Mike's voice wasn't any louder than a whisper ── instead, it sounded as calm and measured as Mike could muster. When the other man didn't immediately answer but just kept gazing straight ahead as if stunned, Mike thought it was best to let Harvey have some time alone with his thoughts and let him mull over all of the things that had been said.

He made to turn when he caught himself suddenly being incredibly aware of where he was exactly and stopped mid-turn to look at Harvey. "I am happy to have you, Harvey. I hope you know that I care for you a great deal, and I would return this favor in a heartbeat, if ever in some sort of alternate universe you were in a position similar to mine."

With a nod and without one more word spoken, Mike bid Harvey a good night and turned completely to return to the guest room and try to catch a bit more sleep before Harvey's unnecessarily annoying alarm inevitably woke both of them up when it resounded loudly through the hallway every day at six. He had nearly made gotten to the doorway when the older man's voice stopped him in his tracks, strong and firm, oddly sober for someone who had just emptied nearly a whole bottle of scotch on his own. "Mike." At this, Michael Ross halted and looked over his shoulder, to see the owner of the loft he stayed the nights in slowly pad over to him on bare feet.

When the lawyer stopped two feet from where Mike had and made the impression that he wanted to say more than that, Mike faced the closer once more, to give Harvey a chance to speak and say what he had to. If it hadn't been for the tranquil way in which he was behaving and seemed intent to speak, Mike might not have done so.

Mike was caught a tad off-guard when Harvey acted next, spoke next. He took one step closer, grabbed Mike by the back of his head and tangled nimble fingers in a fistful of dark hair as he slammed their foreheads together, forcing Mike to look right at him. It was a gesture that Trevor might have made with him in the past, but definitely not a move that he expected from Harvey Specter. He could merely assume that it had been fueled by his level of intoxication, as well as all the words shared between them and the confrontations he had been met with during the day, which must have been the reason he had been on his couch with a bottle of scotch in the middle of the night in the first place. "I do care for you, Mike. I hope you know that," he said.

A small smile quirked a corner of the younger man's mouth as the words fell from the lawyer's lips and dark chocolate-colored eyes bored into Mike's blue ones questioningly, as if asking for confirmation, for reassurance ── he, a lone wolf who had prided himself his entire life's existence on being above such… human things. _Progress_ , Mike thought. "I do know, but it is still nice to hear," he said, and with it, he teased the most subtle of smiles from the other man's lips as well.

Awkwardly, the two men just stood there, foreheads touching, with Mike being incredibly aware of the way his boss' hand was still tangled in the small hairs at the back of his former associate's neck. As the moment passed between them, their smiles seemed frozen as their hearts raced and the tension between them grew. There were two ways for them to get from the situation they were currently in and those included moving on or embracing it. Harvey Specter, quite surprisingly, made the choice to go for the last option before Mike had a chance to.

In his whole life, Harvey Specter had never had any kind of feelings or attraction for someone of his own gender ── up until that moment, he never would have imagined that that was possible either. The closer had gone through his entire life believing that he was 100% straight, but right then, right there, he felt so close to Mike that his feelings for his former associate nearly inevitably breached the physical lines, too. The only way that Harvey could control the minor hysteria in his brain regarding his ── rather unexpected ── _attraction_ to men was by forcing himself not to freak but keep his wild thoughts in check. He wondered if the way Mike froze under his touch was an indication that he felt the same way. When he detected how enlarged Mike's pupils were, the blue nearly invisible, he couldn't help wondering whether or not Mike had ever kissed a man before, if he had enjoyed it if he had, and if so, if he wanted to do it again, with him. Uncertainty, as well as fear, coursed through him, and Harvey's lips tingled with anticipation, Harvey's throat, mouth and tongue suddenly feeling like the Sahara. The top-notch lawyer swallowed, forced the tightly-knotted acid-y bile in his throat down and fought back the incertitude that he felt, doing his best to just rely on his ability to read people and interpret and push through when afraid of the answers he didn't know yet.

Mike wasn't entirely certain on who moved first, blue eyes fluttered closed before he tasted the left-over alcohol and late-night vulnerability when Harvey's lips touched his, never tentative but immediately demanding, urging. Mike's mind swam, and he was barely aware in that moment of the way his former boss' hand tightened in his already-mussed hair, tongue pushing against his lips skillfully, seeking entrance, hardly asking for permission to do so. Mike hadn't actually noticed they had been moving backwards until he felt the wooden doorway dig into his spine; firm fingertips grasped Mike's sides and fisted the fabric of the henley he wore to sleep in. Mike didn't know where to put his hands really, and his arms flailed helplessly before one of his hands fell to the older man's strong back. The other one followed only seconds after that.

The fraud felt how intense heat ran through his system and pooled in the pit of his belly when Harvey Specter kissed him like no one had before. He felt himself twitch just slightly, and as he felt a need wash over him to respond to his quickly-forming hard-on, he knew that if they didn't stop now, the men would reach a hard edge that required a choice to be made, one Mike wasn't sure _he_ was ready to make, quite yet ── let alone Harvey. With force, for that was the only way to get the result he intended, Mike turned his face away and broke the kiss. Their eyes remained closed for several seconds, as they panted in each other's faces from the intensity of the kiss and the lack of air that had built as it had lasted. When Mike's eyes finally fluttered open, encouraged by the last shreds of sanity he had left in him, he noted Harvey was looking at him slightly bewildered, as if Mike had slapped him right in the face.

An awkwardness took hold of the situation then, with Mike pressed between the doorframe and his former boss, his hands all but two inches above the latter's well-formed ass, so he tried to salvage what he could from the situation between them, before it turned into the biggest mess that he had ever been part of. When the other man moved to pull back, he moved to stop him by taking a hold of Harvey's chemise, keeping him in place and their bodies pressed together, making them acutely aware of how they had both responded to what had happened and their personal desires. Mike could tell that the other man was uncertain of the reason why he had brought the kiss to such a harsh and incredibly sudden end, and that he was nervous ── no matter how hard Harvey tried not to let it show, no matter how much he would have succeeded if it hadn't been Mike opposite him ── that it hadn't been what Mike had wanted at that time.

When Mike felt that Harvey wasn't going to worm away from him anymore, he carefully raised a hand and laid a fingertip across the older man's lips to shut him up and stop the sea of words he could see were ready to spill forth. "If we don't stop this now, I don't know if we'll be able to later. Harvey, can you honestly tell me you're ready?"

Mike's bright blue gaze remained on the lawyer's as he genuinely seemed to consider the answer he would give. Mike suddenly felt both too exposed and not nearly exposed enough at the same time ── nothing he could say he had ever felt for a guy ── and it was scary, yet strangely exhilarating not to know what was going to happen. Harvey Specter had never been with a guy, yet kissing Mike felt so good and so right… If that was any indication at all for whatever possibilities they had, going forwards, Harvey only wanted more of it. Harvey's answer came in a gentle, low rumble. "There's no reason not to discover right now," he said, momentarily hesitated, then leant down to press a kiss to Mike's lips.

If he hadn't been convinced yet by his words, then he had been by Harvey's actions, the memory of how his wonderful mouth had felt on his causing him to twitch still, if not in hopes for a… continuation of what had happened earlier, then more. "I guess I won't sleep on the couch tonight," he spoke, Mike's hopefulness not completely coming off as a certain cockiness.

Harvey's answer then came in the way he near-forcefully gripped Mike's hand and entwined their fingers tightly, looking deeply into his eyes before he pulled his hand in order to lead them to the bedroom. Whatever happened tonight, not a chance that Mike Ross was not going to sleep in bed with him.


End file.
